


The Girlfriend Experience

by Morethancupcake



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholic Tony Stark, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Break Up, Dubious Morality, Escort Service, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, POV Original Character, POV Second Person, Recovery, steve and tony break up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 17:30:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10470336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morethancupcake/pseuds/Morethancupcake
Summary: You smile in the car, because you feel good. Confident. This is hardly your first rodeo, you're used to powerful men, you know what to expect.You know he used to requests women, years ago. You know he asked for you, specifically. You know enough of his life to know you're here to take his revenge, his anger.You're ready to take it all, after all, you're here for him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fanfiction of a fanfiction. This was honestly all because of the wonderful piece [Blue Eyes, Blue Lies](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6940672/)
> 
> I tried to contact the author to properly link them and credit them, but unfortunately couldn't reach them. Please read it, it's gorgeous.
> 
> This is slightly different folks, so please process with caution :
> 
> -This is not a happy ending for Steve and Tony together.  
> -This story can be seen as post Civil War or not, your choice  
> -The narrator is a male escort hired by Tony because of his ressemblance to a famous Steve Rogers.  
> -Steve and Tony used to be in a relationship.
> 
> The midly dubious consent tag is pretty obvious (see : escort) so please if this isn't your kind of stories, I don't mind at all (I wrote several fluffier than legal stories, just go find one, I won't be mad).
> 
> Please remember English isn't my first language if you want to help me out and kindly point out the typos :)

You smile in the car, because you feel good. Confident. This is hardly your first rodeo, you're used to powerful men, you know what to expect.

You know he used to requests women, years ago. You know he asked for you, specifically. You know enough of his life to know you're here to take his revenge, his anger.

You're ready to take it all, after all, you're here for him.

 

He watches you with a smile, and his hands are shaking a little, and somehow, even if it's not your first rodeo, far from it, you're surprised.

He asks about your preferences, about food, about wine. He asks about your day, about the last movie you watched. 

You reach for his tie, his shirt, and he pushes your hands away with a smile. He shakes his head, and asks you about your favorite dessert.

That's not what he wants, so you play along.

 

Charmed, you tell yourself in the elevator, the kiss on your cheek lingering. You are charmed.

 

He requests you again, and you smirk when accepting the call from the agency.

He takes you to his villa, and you both swim under the stars. He listens to you, and you catch yourself forgetting who you're supposed to be.

 

He takes you to art galleries you don't really get, to openings, and he smiles the same sad smile when he notices you don't know what he's talking about.

At night, he drinks too much and calls you Steve, and when he cries he tells you he hates you, he tells you he never deserved this, your sick way of loving him, and you hold him close.

 

Sex is your way of coping, and that's what you're best at, after all. He melts under your mouth, during his sleep. He fucks you slow and sweet, and you almost wish for him to keep you for the weekend, for him to forget about that ghost between you two.

 

He is hesitant, when you leave, too polite and gentle to dismiss you, but too embarassed by his tears to talk and joke, making light of everything.

You don't know why, you are the one who kisses his cheek, soft, just on his jaw, sweet. 

You drive away, to your appartment, to the laundry and the few errands you have to run, and you wonder just why you can't forget the way his eyes light up from time to time.

In the gym, you study your reflection. You wonder if you really look that much like Steve, enough for him to forget who you are. For the first time in your life you regret being a chameleon, you regret taking this job, you regret that hole in your conscience that means you'll be back, again and again, using his pain just to keep him and enjoy this while it lasts.

 

He holds you like you're precious, wanted. He makes you feel safe, and this should've been your first warning.

You spend time lounging in front of a giant screen, watching new movies and TV Shows you never have time for. You make him eat, and you request sparkling water, even if you just could kill for a nice beer, but his hands have stopped shaking, and he doesn't smell like alcohol anymore, when you fuck.

 

He kisses you, and you kiss him back, your hand cupping the back of his head.

 

"You don't have to come back, you know ?" He watches your hands, together, and his smile is soft, distant. "My father paid my first boyfriend to stay with me, keep me in check. I know you probably have a life waiting for you. I won't be mad if you need time to yourself."

You think about your empty appartment, beautiful and cold. You think about his laughter earlier, seeing you struggle with an enamoured robot holding on to your shirt. 

"There's only you, Tony."

You pretend it's a line, all bluff, because you don't want him to know just how true it is.

 

You find him in a puddle of alcohol, probably on his way to a coma. You force yourself not to panic, and to follow the instructions the AI is giving you. You find the phone, an old flip phone, and you put two and two together. 

"Hey." He's hoarse, and shaking, and you wrap him in your arms, kissing the top of his head.

 

You start to hate it. Steve. You hate that name. You hate the legend behind it, you hate the man who broke his body and his soul. You hate him.

 

"You actually are pretty different." He traces the lines of your back, connects the freckles you hate. He kisses them one by one, and you know you just purr under the attention.

"How so ?"

"You're... gentle. With me."

You kiss him again, and again, and uses all your tricks, all your magic to make his pliant and languid. 

"That's what you deserve."

This is not a line. You both know it.

 

They talk. You know. You know better than to ask, because you know your place, you were paid for a reason, and not to be noisy about the future of your country, of the world. You see people in passing, from the safety of his personal floor, you see people screaming at him, arguing. You want to take your fists to them, even if you know how it would end.

You know your place, and in the dark, you keep him safe.

 

"My best friend is coming." He is avoiding your gaze, sitting at the end of the bed. You feel betrayed, even if you know you don't have the right to be. You go back to your own place, and you let it show, how hurt you are.

You pray for a phonecall, you pray for anything.

 

"I want you to meet Rhodey." 

He uses your name. Your real name.

If the Colonel wants to comment on your blue eye and blond hair, at least he refrains. He's polite and shakes your hand, and you breathe for the first time in weeks.

Later they fight, you can hear them, even if you can't grasp the exact words.

 

This is dangerous, this is love you're feeling in your chest.

 

It feels like vacation, spending time with them. It reminds you of college, hanging out with the boys, having fun. He isn't shy, he still holds your hand and kisses you no matter what, and it shouldn't make you feel good, it shouldn't make you feel hopeful.

 

"I wanted to hate you." The other man doesn't look less intimidating in a chair. You know better than to underestimate years of training coupled with the technology around his legs. "But you're one of us, now. You love him, don't you ?"

"I do." You wish it was a line.

 

"And what will you do when the Good Captain will waltz back and asks for everything on a platter, as he always do ?"

 

You think about it. About this life you desperately want.

 

"I'll kill him."

 

He offers you a drawer. He doesn't look into your eyes, and just mentions the huge closet, now completely empty. You want to ask, you want to know what you can reach for, what you can take until it's too much.

 

"Do you even want me ?" He's upset, but he doesn't smell drunk. His eyes are resolutely turned to the skyline, and his tone acidic when he asks. "I pay you. I bought you. I could just stop the payment and what, you would disappear ?"

"Only during the days, I suppose." You wonder if that's how he felt, falling from the sky. "I don't really want to go to coffee shops, or fast foods.  
It's been a while since I worked tables, so I'm not sure what my schedule would be." He stares at you like you're maniac. "I mean. Assuming I wouldn't go back to the agency ?"

He kisses you, frantic and hurried, and makes love to you on the plush carpet in your room. You want to believe, when he tells you to stay. You want to believe he means it.

 

You punch the archer, who's apparently too stunned to react. You learn after how lethal he is, and you guess love truly made you a fool. He swallows his hateful words when he watches him nurse your swollen fingers, and he eyes you with something like respect.

You don't need that kind of friend, you tell him, and you see the way the redhead reevaluates you under her lashes.

 

You hear his stories, at night. You listen, you're good at it, and you remind him of what your life used ot be when he starts to get shy, to hide under sarcasms and hard words.

"I'll protect you." you tell him one night, eyes fixed on his. "I don't have any powers, I'm just me. But no one will hurt you again."

 

You wonder if that's what you were born to do, taking care of this man who would just kill himself trying to protect everybody.

 

Steve is back, you know it. You know in the hard set of his shoulders, in the way he clenches his jaw, even when he kisses you. You know in the way he fucks you, hard and miles away from what you now call love.

You try not to feel used, not to feel hurt by it. You were a replacement for a reason, after all.

And in the end, frustrated and angry and hurt, he comes back to you.

 

When you see him, it's anticlimatic, and almost ridiculous. You don't recognize yourself in the man you find in your room. You don't see yourself as sullen and hard. Cold. Tired. 

Old.

"He moved my clothes." He sounds lost, and you let him speak. "I wanted to grab a shower, and change. But he moved my things."

"I believe he sent everything to Wakanda. Isn't that where you're hiding ?"

You wonder why you were so scared of him. This isn't the man you saw in pictures, the man you watched laughing at your lover, in bed with him. 

"Natasha said you looked like me." He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Jealousy, longing, envy. you're familiar with them, you welcome them, you enjoy seeing the little twist of his lips. "I don't see it."

"I don't see it either." You make a show of taking of your jacket, and hang it in your closet. You want to rub it in, all that he lost.

"I used to be in your place." This is just Alpha male bullshit, you feel confident enough, even faced with Captain Fucking America. "I used to be you."

"I don't think so." You smile, showing your teeth. You want to smash his head until it stops to hurt him, you think about the nightmares, the scars. "I love him. And I will do a better job."

 

You wonder if the tall man calling for him just saved your life. You don't really care.

 

"Your hair looks darker."

He takes you to a cottage for your birthday. You both look ridiculous trying to snowboard, but when the sun sets, you go back to the fireplace, with cocoa and a meal of melted cheese and potatoes. You lay your head on his lap, and he plays with the beard you started to grow, your hair now longer and yes, darker. It feels domestic, talking about his work at SI, about leaving the line of duty.

You want to believe this is it, you want to believe he is happy, when he smiles and winks at you.

"I like it."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ! I agree it was pretty different from my usual style, I hope you liked it anyway :) Please consider leaving a (nice) comment and kudos ? It makes my day !
> 
> You can find me on tumblr :)
> 
> http://iwanttopizzamanyou.tumblr.com/post/158896948619/the-girlfriend-experience
> 
> And while I have your attention, please remember to stretch your neck and jaw, and drink a glass of water ? You'll thank me in the morning :)


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